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Jeffrey Deaver knows how to hook readers and keep
them guessing with suspenseful, twisty plots. This early Deaver
effort, originally published in 1988, will not disappoint fans
dazzled by his subsequent, high-profile Lincoln Rhyme series (The
Bone Collector, The Coffin Dancer, The Empty Chair.)
Manhattan Is My Beat takes its name from the (invented) 1947
film noir watched obsessively by murder victim Robert Kelly. Our
heroine, Rune, (a punk with a heart of gold) works for Washington
Square Video. On a routine pickup to retrieve Manhattan Is My Beat,
she discovers Kelly just shot dead, the target of a professional
hit. Rune and a woman jogger glimpse the presumed killer as he
speeds off in a green car. While cops drag their heels in solving
the mystery, Rune takes matters into her own hands, convinced that
the motive for the murder is a missing suitcase stuffed with one
million dollars--the subject, not coincidentally, of the film that
Kelly and Rune both admired. An avid fan of fantasy novels and
prone to see life through the prism of magic and quests, Rune takes
up the challenge of finding the lost money and catching Kelly's
killers. But the formidable hit team is intent upon destroying both
possible witnesses to the murder, and their nimble crosses and
double-crosses--some of which the reader sees, some of which are
revealed at the end--make for fun reading.
Plotting moves briskly in this novel, except for a slowdown
in the story--Rune's ambiguous romance with downtown poseur Richard
has little to do with catching killers. The conclusion, while
neatly wrapped, is marred by the sudden appearance of a crucial
detail that Deaver produces like a fancy dish under the waiter's
silver dome. But the gimmick to offset the conclusion's
predictability feels like a cheat rather than a revelation. All in
all, however, the novel is excellent mind candy, a thrilling romp
lead by an agile, street-smart heroine.
Jeffrey Deaver knows how to hook readers and keep
them guessing with suspenseful, twisty plots. This early Deaver
effort, originally published in 1988, will not disappoint fans
dazzled by his subsequent, high-profile Lincoln Rhyme series (The
Bone Collector, The Coffin Dancer, The Empty Chair.)
Manhattan Is My Beat takes its name from the (invented) 1947
film noir watched obsessively by murder victim Robert Kelly. Our
heroine, Rune, (a punk with a heart of gold) works for Washington
Square Video. On a routine pickup to retrieve Manhattan Is My Beat,
she discovers Kelly just shot dead, the target of a professional
hit. Rune and a woman jogger glimpse the presumed killer as he
speeds off in a green car. While cops drag their heels in solving
the mystery, Rune takes matters into her own hands, convinced that
the motive for the murder is a missing suitcase stuffed with one
million dollars--the subject, not coincidentally, of the film that
Kelly and Rune both admired. An avid fan of fantasy novels and
prone to see life through the prism of magic and quests, Rune takes
up the challenge of finding the lost money and catching Kelly's
killers. But the formidable hit team is intent upon destroying both
possible witnesses to the murder, and their nimble crosses and
double-crosses--some of which the reader sees, some of which are
revealed at the end--make for fun reading.
Plotting moves briskly in this novel, except for a slowdown
in the story--Rune's ambiguous romance with downtown poseur Richard
has little to do with catching killers. The conclusion, while
neatly wrapped, is marred by the sudden appearance of a crucial
detail that Deaver produces like a fancy dish under the waiter's
silver dome. But the gimmick to offset the conclusion's
predictability feels like a cheat rather than a revelation. All in
all, however, the novel is excellent mind candy, a thrilling romp
lead by an agile, street-smart heroine.
Jeffrey Deaver knows how to hook readers and keep
them guessing with suspenseful, twisty plots. This early Deaver
effort, originally published in 1988, will not disappoint fans
dazzled by his subsequent, high-profile Lincoln Rhyme series (The
Bone Collector, The Coffin Dancer, The Empty Chair.)
Manhattan Is My Beat takes its name from the (invented) 1947
film noir watched obsessively by murder victim Robert Kelly. Our
heroine, Rune, (a punk with a heart of gold) works for Washington
Square Video. On a routine pickup to retrieve Manhattan Is My Beat,
she discovers Kelly just shot dead, the target of a professional
hit. Rune and a woman jogger glimpse the presumed killer as he
speeds off in a green car. While cops drag their heels in solving
the mystery, Rune takes matters into her own hands, convinced that
the motive for the murder is a missing suitcase stuffed with one
million dollars--the subject, not coincidentally, of the film that
Kelly and Rune both admired. An avid fan of fantasy novels and
prone to see life through the prism of magic and quests, Rune takes
up the challenge of finding the lost money and catching Kelly's
killers. But the formidable hit team is intent upon destroying both
possible witnesses to the murder, and their nimble crosses and
double-crosses--some of which the reader sees, some of which are
revealed at the end--make for fun reading.
Plotting moves briskly in this novel, except for a slowdown
in the story--Rune's ambiguous romance with downtown poseur Richard
has little to do with catching killers. The conclusion, while
neatly wrapped, is marred by the sudden appearance of a crucial
detail that Deaver produces like a fancy dish under the waiter's
silver dome. But the gimmick to offset the conclusion's
predictability feels like a cheat rather than a revelation. All in
all, however, the novel is excellent mind candy, a thrilling romp
lead by an agile, street-smart heroine.
Jeffrey Deaver knows how to hook readers and keep
them guessing with suspenseful, twisty plots. This early Deaver
effort, originally published in 1988, will not disappoint fans
dazzled by his subsequent, high-profile Lincoln Rhyme series (The
Bone Collector, The Coffin Dancer, The Empty Chair.)
Manhattan Is My Beat takes its name from the (invented) 1947
film noir watched obsessively by murder victim Robert Kelly. Our
heroine, Rune, (a punk with a heart of gold) works for Washington
Square Video. On a routine pickup to retrieve Manhattan Is My Beat,
she discovers Kelly just shot dead, the target of a professional
hit. Rune and a woman jogger glimpse the presumed killer as he
speeds off in a green car. While cops drag their heels in solving
the mystery, Rune takes matters into her own hands, convinced that
the motive for the murder is a missing suitcase stuffed with one
million dollars--the subject, not coincidentally, of the film that
Kelly and Rune both admired. An avid fan of fantasy novels and
prone to see life through the prism of magic and quests, Rune takes
up the challenge of finding the lost money and catching Kelly's
killers. But the formidable hit team is intent upon destroying both
possible witnesses to the murder, and their nimble crosses and
double-crosses--some of which the reader sees, some of which are
revealed at the end--make for fun reading.
Plotting moves briskly in this novel, except for a slowdown
in the story--Rune's ambiguous romance with downtown poseur Richard
has little to do with catching killers. The conclusion, while
neatly wrapped, is marred by the sudden appearance of a crucial
detail that Deaver produces like a fancy dish under the waiter's
silver dome. But the gimmick to offset the conclusion's
predictability feels like a cheat rather than a revelation. All in
all, however, the novel is excellent mind candy, a thrilling romp
lead by an agile, street-smart heroine.
Jeffrey Deaver knows how to hook readers and keep
them guessing with suspenseful, twisty plots. This early Deaver
effort, originally published in 1988, will not disappoint fans
dazzled by his subsequent, high-profile Lincoln Rhyme series (The
Bone Collector, The Coffin Dancer, The Empty Chair.)
Manhattan Is My Beat takes its name from the (invented) 1947
film noir watched obsessively by murder victim Robert Kelly. Our
heroine, Rune, (a punk with a heart of gold) works for Washington
Square Video. On a routine pickup to retrieve Manhattan Is My Beat,
she discovers Kelly just shot dead, the target of a professional
hit. Rune and a woman jogger glimpse the presumed killer as he
speeds off in a green car. While cops drag their heels in solving
the mystery, Rune takes matters into her own hands, convinced that
the motive for the murder is a missing suitcase stuffed with one
million dollars--the subject, not coincidentally, of the film that
Kelly and Rune both admired. An avid fan of fantasy novels and
prone to see life through the prism of magic and quests, Rune takes
up the challenge of finding the lost money and catching Kelly's
killers. But the formidable hit team is intent upon destroying both
possible witnesses to the murder, and their nimble crosses and
double-crosses--some of which the reader sees, some of which are
revealed at the end--make for fun reading.
Plotting moves briskly in this novel, except for a slowdown
in the story--Rune's ambiguous romance with downtown poseur Richard
has little to do with catching killers. The conclusion, while
neatly wrapped, is marred by the sudden appearance of a crucial
detail that Deaver produces like a fancy dish under the waiter's
silver dome. But the gimmick to offset the conclusion's
predictability feels like a cheat rather than a revelation. All in
all, however, the novel is excellent mind candy, a thrilling romp
lead by an agile, street-smart heroine.
Jeffrey Deaver knows how to hook readers and keep
them guessing with suspenseful, twisty plots. This early Deaver
effort, originally published in 1988, will not disappoint fans
dazzled by his subsequent, high-profile Lincoln Rhyme series (The
Bone Collector, The Coffin Dancer, The Empty Chair.)
Manhattan Is My Beat takes its name from the (invented) 1947
film noir watched obsessively by murder victim Robert Kelly. Our
heroine, Rune, (a punk with a heart of gold) works for Washington
Square Video. On a routine pickup to retrieve Manhattan Is My Beat,
she discovers Kelly just shot dead, the target of a professional
hit. Rune and a woman jogger glimpse the presumed killer as he
speeds off in a green car. While cops drag their heels in solving
the mystery, Rune takes matters into her own hands, convinced that
the motive for the murder is a missing suitcase stuffed with one
million dollars--the subject, not coincidentally, of the film that
Kelly and Rune both admired. An avid fan of fantasy novels and
prone to see life through the prism of magic and quests, Rune takes
up the challenge of finding the lost money and catching Kelly's
killers. But the formidable hit team is intent upon destroying both
possible witnesses to the murder, and their nimble crosses and
double-crosses--some of which the reader sees, some of which are
revealed at the end--make for fun reading.
Plotting moves briskly in this novel, except for a slowdown
in the story--Rune's ambiguous romance with downtown poseur Richard
has little to do with catching killers. The conclusion, while
neatly wrapped, is marred by the sudden appearance of a crucial
detail that Deaver produces like a fancy dish under the waiter's
silver dome. But the gimmick to offset the conclusion's
predictability feels like a cheat rather than a revelation. All in
all, however, the novel is excellent mind candy, a thrilling romp
lead by an agile, street-smart heroine.
Deaver writes with clarity, compassion, and intelligence, and
with a decidedly human and contemporary slant -- -- Publishers
Weekly